Chapter 393: The Only Way Is Up

Sophia tore a long strip from the hem of her cloak.

The fabric resisted for a second before giving way with a rough rip that echoed faintly through the hollow chamber. The sound made her flinch instinctively. Everything inside this nest felt too loud, like the walls themselves were listening.

She crouched back beside the boy quickly.

Tarin’s wrists were thin beneath her fingers, the bones light and fragile like a bird’s. His skin felt cooler than it should have been, and that alone tightened something anxious in her chest. She wrapped the torn fabric around his hands carefully, looping and knotting it just tightly enough to keep the venom from spreading further without cutting off circulation.

"Okay," she murmured softly, more to herself than to him. "That should slow it a little more."

When she lifted her gaze to his face, her breath caught.

Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. Deep, purpling hollows that made him look far older than he probably was — exhaustion and poison hollowing him out from the inside. His eyelids fluttered unevenly, struggling to stay open, the lashes trembling like they were too heavy to lift again.

Sophia reached out without thinking.

Her fingers brushed his cheek gently.

"Tarin," she said quietly. "Open your eyes for me."

His lashes lifted halfway, then drooped again.

"M’tryin’..." he mumbled.

His voice was slow, slurred around the edges like his tongue wasn’t keeping up with his thoughts.

"I know you are," Sophia said gently, her thumb brushing a reassuring circle against his skin. "But you have to stay awake right now. Just a little longer, okay?"

He nodded faintly — more a sway of his head than a real motion.

"Sleepy," he whispered.

"I know," Sophia said softly. "But if you sleep now, it’ll make it harder for your body to fight the venom. So we’re going to keep you talking."

She glanced around the dim chamber and spotted the small pouch lying near his side — the one he’d kept by his side like it was precious. She picked it up and gently pressed it into his hands.

"Hold this for me," she instructed. "Don’t drop it."

His fingers curled weakly around it, clutching it against his chest.

"Good," she praised softly. "Who gave this to you?"

His lips curved faintly into something like a smile.

"Owl did..."

Sophia frowned slightly. "An owl?"

He shook his head slowly, the movement sluggish and uncoordinated.

"Not... not bird," he murmured. "Owl. Trader. Best... best trader..."

His brows knitted as if the words themselves were heavy.

"Best trader?" Sophia prompted carefully.

"Black..." he murmured. "Black... market."

His speech began to fracture between pauses. Each word dragged behind the last, delayed and uneven, like stepping stones across a river that kept shifting beneath him.

Sophia felt a flicker of unease stir in her stomach.

"The black market?" she repeated quietly.

His eyelids drooped again, almost fully closing this time.

"Tarin," she said sharply — not harsh, but urgent — tapping his cheek lightly. "Hey. Stay with me. Talk to me."

He startled faintly, eyes snapping open again in sluggish confusion.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Good," she said. "Keep talking. You said black market."

He swallowed.

"Was... was there," he said slowly. "But not now. Gone now."

Her heart gave a sudden, sharp jolt.

"Gone?" she repeated.

He nodded faintly.

"I don’t understand — this owl is gone, or the black market?" she asked him.

"Black... black market," he told her.

"Bad... bad people," he said, stumbling over the words. "Burned it. Broke it. Took... took people."

Sophia’s pulse accelerated violently.

That didn’t make sense.

Tobias was there. The black market was his territory, at least from what she knew. He traded there, bringing money and information into the pack. And if the black market had been damaged or destroyed like Tarin said, then Tobias would have been back at the pack. He would have told Orion at least, right?

"Owl saved us," Tarin continued weakly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Got us out. Hid us. And... and... he told us where to go."

Sophia leaned closer instinctively. "There are more of you?"

"Yes, most of us were rogues. Owl hired us... his workers were with us — me and my sister."

His voice trailed off into a drowsy hum.

Sophia tapped his cheek again, a little firmer this time. "Tarin. Stay awake. You were saying Owl."

He blinked slowly.

"He said his real name once," Tarin whispered. "Said Owl was just... but I forgot it."

His lips pressed together faintly, frustration flickering across his face even through the haze.

"Sorry," he murmured again. "Forgot..."

"That’s okay," Sophia said quickly. "Don’t worry about it. You remembered enough."

Her mind raced wildly behind her calm expression.

A thread of dread coiled quietly in her gut. She was worried about Tobias — he was a member of the pack and was her friend, and also Orion’s close friend. She had to get to Orion. She had to tell him what she had just heard, but the issue was how.

And right now, Tarin mattered more. There was no way she could leave a child to die.

"I’m going to get you out of here," she told him firmly. "Both of us."

He let out a faint, breathless laugh that sounded more like air escaping than amusement.

"Only way out is up," he murmured. "They tried. They all tried."

Sophia stilled.

"They complained it was too smooth, no grip too."

A faint tremor ran through his body.

"We can’t," he said quietly. "Not both of us."

Sophia’s jaw tightened.

"That doesn’t matter," she said immediately. "We’re still going to try."

He turned his head toward her slowly, eyes glassy and unfocused but searching her face all the same.

"You don’t gotta," he murmured. "I’m... heavy."

Her chest tightened sharply.

She shook her head. "I’m not leaving you here."

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to argue — but the words didn’t come. His eyelids fluttered dangerously again.

Sophia rose to her feet quickly, her boots scraping softly against the rough floor.

She approached the curved wall of the nest cautiously.

Up close, it was worse than she expected.